


hand in unlovable hand

by Lua



Series: of doomed timelines and could've beens [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Pale Porn, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Retconned Timeline, Unbeta'd, a tiny little bit of quadrant vacillation in the corner, characters not knowing as much as the reader, unsure pale feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7863199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lua/pseuds/Lua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once you get past the fact you made it out alive all the way to the end of a goddamn doomed timeline, you can see the situation for its rare romantic beauty. You didn't plan any of it, but you are willing to trade the anger that comes with metaphysical shenanigans for some pale action.</p><p>"I am drowning. There is is no sign of land.<br/>You are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand.<br/>And I hope you die. I hope we both die."<br/>No Children - The Mountain Goats</p><p> </p><p>[palestuck (summer 2016)]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. hand me your hand, let me look in your eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SybLaTortue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybLaTortue/gifts).



It is outrageous.

John Egbert is a Breath player and has no business with time shenanigans. Nevertheless, that being what he is and Time still not being his goddamn aspect, there he is and, as soon as your sad group hit the literal ground of the new session, there he is TWICE.  There is a list of very unsettling things you could name just out of the top of your head, things that happened in the past five minutes, and, even so, a second John makes the top of said non-existent list faster than you could actually name all the unnerving items meant to be on it.

You get hugged. You are too shocked to react.

It dawns on you that you’ve spent the last three fucking years stuck in the actual literal doomed clusterfuck of boredom, existential hell and romantic ridiculousness. The second John flies off, waving and laughing as if he isn’t leaving all of you as confounded as he could, confirms to you that all that effort to get here was an exercise of futility because it.

Was.

Doomed.

All.

Along.

There is a bottomless pit of rage under the stunned realization that the seemingly endless trip that was as shitty as shitty could get, but that you endured because it was supposed to be worth it, was actually pointless. This version of you would rather not have made an excruciating trip through the Furthest Ring and met countless versions of dead friends nor have been forced in and out of ghost memories just to get here and be told that was it, the journey was all that mattered and we hope you appreciated the godawful view. Fuck you.

There is no silver lining.

Meeting John – the original version – doesn’t hold the same importance now that you know you are all doomed. The reunion is suddenly meaningless. The anger seems to leave you and you deflate before you can even start ranting. The anger doesn’t go away, not really. Not when being fucked over this close of finally making it to the goal is the story of your sorry excuse of a life. Not when all the effort keeps being…

You pause. You take a deep breath.  

For nothing. It was for nothing. Because this is not a timeline in which the thing that needed to happen happened so whatever!

You have a lot of conflicting feelings right now. Mostly, you feel tired. Angry, sure, but you’ve been angry all your life. You are not even dead and you have been written off. Is that fucked up or what? If there was ever a more justified existential crisis to have you doubt someone in existence ever had it and this is all sorts of philosophical bullshit you don't want to deal with.

“Fuck!” you breathe out, and, once you started voicing your frustration, you don’t really want to stop.

There is a combination of disappointment and annoyance coiling inside of you that is so intense you take a moment to wonder if you could actually be leeching the frustration of all of your other selves from all those other timelines to create some sort of ultimate tirade. You are pretty sure that even if you ranted the longest, angriest, most frustrated rant to ever exist, something as epic that it would affect the very fabric of the universe, it would still not be enough to make you feel better, and _that_ is what actually leaves you defeated.

You grind your teeth and keep your silence instead. It’s with your jaw set that you realize that, maybe, you are not channeling the pent-up frustration of all the other doomed versions of you but that it’s just your freaky mutant blood. You’d bet the Signless felt pretty damn angry when he was hanging by his wrists and coming to his own epiphany that it had all been for nothing and he was just going to die because something that really needed to happened didn't happen and guess who got fucked because of that? Back then it was him, so you’re up now, kid. It's you!

You end up walking away. The humans are having their little reunion; three years is not enough for their customs to not be alien to you. You don’t want to join them and you definitely don’t want to be on the sidelines watching them.

Dave messages you, but you don't reply. You've been talking to Dave for three years. You've been talking to this particular group of humans and trolls for three years. You are kinda sick of it.

Of them.

Like fuck any of you would just go on and pretend to have any gas left to fight unbeatable bosses and the goddamn empress herself while the clock is ticking down to erase you from existence and somehow kill you. Do you even die when you are alive and the timeline is doomed? Maybe you’d just cease to exist like John said. Bulgesniffing douche. Not even the dignity of death, no, not for you. It is amazing everyone is keeping their shit under control given the circumstances. It is amazing everyone was keeping their shit under control given the complete meaninglessness of circumstances since it probably happened hundreds of times before now.

You leave the humans to their human things. And you leave Terezi and Kanaya to get closure from what passes for their quadrantmates, considering all the social implications the humans kept missing. Them or Gamzee, but fuck that guy.

You don't want to talk to any of them right now. You think you are allowed some space to feel sorry for yourself.

You wander. There is no point going anywhere. You still notice that, as the hope planet, the human session has a completely different version from what was Eridan's planet. You’re thankful for the lack of angels.

Back then, when Eridan was alive and had a planet, you had assumed you'd be able to conjure some impromptu pale feelings for him if the situation ever called for it and it took you quite some time to make peace with that mistake. Eventually, you made peace with the fact you just watched in horrified shock instead of shoosh papping the murderous asshole into a pile. You were mistaken and you learned that, learned from that. You made peace with that. You made peace with the platonic hate you felt for him after that for some time.

It was hard to keep on hating the same friend in the same way with the same intensity when you ran into so many different versions of them who never even had the chance to wrong you. Some versions of your friends died pretty heroically. There was a point in which you started feeling like a piece of shit when you met an Eridan with his freaky blank eyes and you could tell it was an asshole who never killed any of your friends and didn’t have a clue why you’d hate him for this thing he never did. So, eventually, since Eridan was dead and you wouldn’t have to deal with that shit after the ghost memory-collage was over, you decided to push your negative feelings towards him under the self-loathing it generated and you made peace with the fact you’d probably always hate him a little for being an insufferable murderous douche.

It was part of the reason you thought you could act as a pale buddy on the go. Was that a bit of pale-ashen confusion there?

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

As if it’s not enough to be waiting the end of your existence, you have to make yourself as miserable as you can be. Fuck it, it was done already. There was so much you could’ve prevented just by being a better moirail. Even an emergency pap could’ve prevented a lot.

There were times you wondered if you could’ve shooshed Sollux, if the whole ordeal didn’t shut down your think pan like a broken husktop. You remember being so ashamed of the thought after it first occurred to you that you avoided eye contact with everyone in the meteor for a week despite the fact it had _not_ been a pale fantasy about your friend. Theoretically speaking, it could’ve been an ashen gesture, not that it mattered because you pictured a pale intervention saving the day. It had been a hypothetical heroic scenario. Except whenever you tried to explain it to yourself, it sounded like the type of romantic gesture that would make a difference and not a platonic selfless thing.

Goddamnit.

You just missed your friends. Even the weird ones. Even the asshole ones. Even the ones you kinda only missed now because you didn’t have to be around them.

You conclude this planet sucks. It is green and red stones all over, and even though you weren’t looking for anything or going anywhere, this only furthers your disappointment. You see a sprite floating by some of those red rocks. It’s been a long time since you have seen a sprite in person. It reminds you of Aradia, but like almost everything on this planet, this one sprite is green.

You walk towards the sprite, hoping this one is not one of the aggravating ones. It’d be nice to talk to someone new before you die or disappear or whatever. The sprite turns in your direction to float down that way. You aren’t sure if you’re brain damaged or if reality started corrupting itself.

"Fuck," the sprite say when he notices you.

Well. Yes.

Fuck, indeed.


	2. and i reach deep down within, but the pathways twist and turn

Your first instinct was to yell at them. Him. There is no them anymore. Except there has to be a they because of…

Of what?

You notice that he has one earfin and three horns, and you immediately feel bad for him. You can't see their eyes. Fuck it; his eyes. You can't reconcile the idea Eridan and Sollux being the same person, but here stands the sorry excuse of a sprite that has to be a hybrid of them. The damn thing is floating in front of you with even douchier glasses than any of your dead friends could have ever had phantom to wear because this one had the thick hipstery frame of Eridan's glasses with the bloody dual lenses from Sollux's glasses. Sollux isn't even dead, for fuck's sake. Not fully dead. You wonder when, you wonder how and, mostly, you wonder fuck why.

You think this may be what an aneurysm feels like.

The sprite mashup of your dead friends just floats there as if he expects you to yell at him. You are no longer sure if you want to yell at them at all - fuck, him - or offer a hug. Human culture has been rubbing off on you.

He's wearing a fucking scarf. He’s ridiculous. You could make a comprehensive list of all the things about this situation that are ridiculous and it would still begin with the fact that he’s ridiculous. You just need to feel sorry for yourself for some time and a future version of you can look back and be aware of what an embarrassment you were at any point in the past because that’s a matter of coherency by now, but there won’t be any future versions of you – not of this particular you that you are being right this moment – and you feel absurd for wanting this mess of a sprite to be your dead friends.

 “So uh…” he begins and you sigh, deflating a little bit.

The sprite seems as uncomfortable as you feel. You couldn't think of two trolls more incompatible to share the same mind.  It was ridiculous. Him. Them. This was ridiculous.

You don’t even know what to call him.

“So who the fuck are you?” you finish for him. “Other than the unholy amalgamation of Eridan and Sollux that we can all agree shouldn’t exist. What the hell do I even call you!?”

You demand a name, but you actually want to demand an explanation. You want to demand details of how this happened. You want to know which versions of them resulted in this abomination. The sprite flips you off.

“Ow, fuck you, too, Kar,” he says.

You throw your hands up in frustration. There is a mix of Eridan’s stupid accent and Sollux’s stupid lisp all over that voice. You would welcome, now, the aneurysm past you didn’t have.

“Don’t tell me it’s some heinous combination of your names,” you narrow your eyes at them. Him! Goddamnit. “It is,” you accuse.

As it turns out, he is called Erisolsprite, but calling him Erisol is fine. He tells you the human does it. He tells you there are other sprites made of combinations of your dead friends because it wasn’t enough for Gamzee to murder them. Oh no, that wasn’t crazy enough! He had to go off to revive them as sprites and you feel somewhat guilty because your own moirail - no, that's wrong, fuck that. Your ex - caused this. It's an embarrassment. It's the embodiment of all forms of embarrassment and you are at the center of it.

He tells you some of them exploded themselves and that he can’t even will himself to do the same so he just kept existing until now. He tells you things that make no difference now because you are all going to disappear into the void, but you let him talk because he calls you KK and he calls you Kar, and you recognize parts of your friends in him.

Your friends had managed to have an even bigger pile of existential bullshit than you do so it doesn’t surprise you Erisol is a mess.

“Being a sprite fuckin’ sucks,” he says.

“Wow,” you snort. “Being doomed is fucking peachy!”

You glare at him and he flips you off with both hands, but he doesn’t float away or storm out in a ghostly sprite way. You suppose both of you agree any company is better than none, and, out of a need to aggravate yourself further for no reason, you tell him that. He still doesn’t leave.

Erisol tells you he met Equius in a bizarrely red mix of troll and shades in sprite version and that he hung around with him for some time because any company was better than none. Until it wasn’t.

“Never mind my attempt at apologizing to the Feferi part of her was a complete disaster, Zahhak just refused to leave her alone! It was an even more disastrous apology than whatever shitty thing I could fucking phantom. I mean, I didn’t explode Nepeta out of it.”

He floats close to you, looking miserable, as he tells you how he must love suffering because he won’t explode himself and he just stuck around with Equius even after the whole mess with Fefeta. He tells you that part of him felt like it was killing part of her all over again and that was fucked up.

You feel sorry for him.

There is a pang in your bloodpusher, and you miss your asshole friends so much, even when they were being aggravating assholes or annoying zen ghosts who found some sort of fake peace in a fake memory where they pretended they weren't the same age forever and that being forced to live in this shitty makeup reality was some sort of mystical wisdom. You miss them, and you had two of them still alive for three years but you got sick of their bullshit because nothing was supposed to be like that and nothing was right anymore and it was hard in a way they didn't get anymore.

And now this guy - this abomination - showed up, and Erisol is not Sollux and he is not Eridan. Erisol is not your dead friends even if your dead friends are there and if he makes your bloodpusher hurt a bit. You don’t miss him because you just met him, but, at the same time, you do.

You are a fucking disgrace. He’s part Sollux, part Eridan and you know he is neither of them. You are a goddamn fucking disgrace because you reach out and gently pap him.


	3. and there's no light anywhere, and nothing left to burn

It’s impossible for you to offer a more obvious pale solicitation, and this shocks both of you. You can’t tell who is more surprised, but, given the fact he looks downright horrified, you are willing to take a guess. You are also willing to take offense because excuse him, this was a beautiful romantic gesture that should transcend understanding. It’s the classic romantic apocalyptic scenario – in some way – in which you have just met – again, in some way – and you are both lonely souls who have given up hope of finding your perfect match hence falling into each other’s arms just to find out you were meant to be all along. He could at least appreciate the goddamn romantic beauty of it!

Shit.

This is embarrassing.

It was a really obvious pale solicitation and now he looks horrified. You are torn between apologizing and absconding. You never had strong pale feelings for either of them, not really. Or any sort of romantic inclinations towards any of them, for that matter. Sure, you entertained some thoughts now and then but some romantic vacillations are normal and expected among any group of friends. Fuck.

You should abscond; you are pretty sure you are missing your window here.

“What,” he finally reacts. You had started to wonder when the ceasing of existence would start because you needed it. “Wow, that was dumb. Sorry. I mean, are you sure?”

You are not sure at all.

You aren't sure if you pity him romantically. You think you do a little bit because you never really pitied Sollux nor Eridan, and, yet, you feel something at Erisol’s absurd detachment. You are doomed and he just didn’t care. At all. He isn’t even happy that he would stop existing. There is nothing and…it’s just wrong. You cared for those fuckers. You still do! Your motivations are all over the place.

You aren't sure if it isn’t just your own reaction to being doomed and the fact you missed every chance to open up and this may be the last one this version of you ever gets. May be. Your denial is almost cute.

You aren't sure you just miss your dead friends. You were friends. Both of them were your friends and you miss them. Erisol is neither of them while being both. He offers no closure and you aren't sure how you feel.

In fact, you stopped being sure of anything a long time ago, but you nod anyway. You feel like an asshole.

You papped the guy in an unmistakable pale solicitation and now you are getting cold feet, second guessing yourself and acting coy. You’re an obtuse fuck. It’s the end of the world or as close as it gets – you don’t really have time or need for the specific metaphysical details to be in place – and this could be a heated moment of pale passion. An epic feelings jam, the sort of romantic moment that would never be repeated.

“Shit. You’re thinking about this like some hideous romcom script scene,” he asks you in that weird way you were learning to recognize Erisol’s questions that weren’t really questions despite the fact they very much were.

“Ok, hold on. Just...it’s the perfect situation!” Erisol actually laughs, the douche. “It’d be common sense to take advantage of the scenario, you dumbfuck.”

“Ehehehe, kinky, KK.”

You refrain from beating the shit out of him on the grounds of it being a serious case of mixed signals and quadrant vacillation. You really don’t want him to be your spades. You entertained the idea of some caliginous feelings for Eridan once and it felt particularly hot at the time because your blood color was still a secret. It had also freaked you the fuck out because your blood was still a secret and a huge freaking deal. You still don’t want Erisol anywhere near your spades.

You blame that on the Sollux part of him.

If you are honest with yourself, the idea of sharing your last sorry moments in a pale embrace seem appealing but you are fucked if you are going to admit that out loud to this fucker. You know both the douchebags used to create him and you’d need to be brain damaged to do that and then you’d need to get the fuck away from him.

Erisol moves to your other side and his tail floats behind you. It feels like he’s looking over your shoulder. You wonder if it would be inappropriate to suggest you get in a pile, but having an expiration date to your existence makes proper courting seem convoluted. Fuck. You realize he didn’t even agree to anything.

“Fuck,” you wheeze, mortified. Past you is the worst you. Your pan is stuck in a loop of the word fuck and you don’t know what else to tell him.

“So, I guess it would be nice,” Erisol stops you before you can actually come up with anything else to say. “Never mind this awkward unscripted part,” he says and you can tell he’s teasing. You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I would like the pile and the talk, Kar. We didn’t have anything going on back then, but yeah, you’re very dear to me. Both parts of me.”

You refuse to blush on principle. You glare at him, and go through your captchalogued things for some stuff for a pile. You still have a bunch of horn piles, so you pick one and pretend there is absolutely no reason to think of Feferi’s dead body on top of it. You remind yourself once again that Erisol is not Sollux so he was never her matesprit and he is not Eridan so he was never her killer. Part of you wants to say part of him was both things.

You sit down on the pile. Erisol floats near you. You look at each other and laugh, embarrassed and unsure like friends who are about to kiss.

“Loser,” he mocks you.

“Shoosh,” you say softly and reaches out to touch the one earfin he has. You never touched one, so you are very gentle. Erisol closes his eyes, floating closer. You trace his fin with the pad of your fingertip first and then with your claw, he sighs softly.

“I think I forgot what it was like to be a troll. Both parts of me,” he confesses in a soft tone. You didn’t expect it. “You wouldn’t believe what a dumbass the human I’m stuck with is, KK. Man, I don’t even remember what’s like being alive with actual trolls who know how to be alive and act fucking normal and I try to do that, you know, he thinks I’m a joke, Kar. I mean, he thinks I’m telling him jokes, the bloody imbecile.”

You reach for his ridiculous scarf and pull his sorry floating ass down. Erisol crashes ungracefully into you and stays there, letting you pet his hair. He’s colder than you which ends up being very comforting because it feels right. Erisol touches your hair, he holds the tips of random locks between his fingers and moves them down until he has let got. It sends a little shiver down your neck and you wonder which part of him learned that trick.

“Shoosh,” you repeat and you trail your fingers down the back of his head, pushing them under his scarf. You scrap your claws on his nape and he makes a small pleasured sound.

“Being a sprite is flipping bullshit,” he sighs. “At least this hoax of a timeline is about to be over.”

You know he is fine with that but you are not. His existence is a different kind of absurdity than your own even if you’re also cursed to be a freak show. All of sudden, you think you could pity him. You think you two could’ve been good together. You think you two could have had a good thing going if you weren’t so damn awful unlucky, but, if you weren’t so damn awful unlucky, Erisol wouldn’t exist so there wouldn’t be anything good to get going anyway. You feel sad for all the things you can’t have.


	4. and the dream went on forever, one single static frame

You find yourself facing Erisol.

His tail wraps itself around your chest and he floats to your side, wrapping his arms around you as if you are the only thing keeping him from floating away. You notice the end of his sprite tail flicking nervously near your wrist.

"Egbert had no business dooming a timeline," you growl, overwhelmed by a sense of unfairness that you know is not reasonable and you honestly thought it was dead and gone. You know what you are saying is not true, but you say it anyway because everything is fucked forever and for once you get to say that literally everything is fucked forever without it being overdramatic. Or childish.

Erisol pulls you against his chest and for a moment all you can breathe is his sprite scarf. You hug him, ignoring that your left horn is probably poking on his chest. You feel avenged for the faceful of scarf. He paps your cheek twice.

“It’s just,” you start talking again. You press your face to his chest and when you continue your voice is slightly muffled. “It wasn't even just one of those stupid piece of shit timelines in which a thing that needed to happen didn't happen! It really was that we fucked up so much with whatever we did that we had to send back a loser who wasn’t even a fucking Time player! That’s how much we needed to make sure the same bullshit didn’t happen!”

You are yelling by the time you stop. Erisol is combing the hair around your right horn. You realize past you was a goddamn genius when he summarized the lesson to be taken from the endless supply of failures you met in the dream bubbles was that maybe you shouldn’t try at all. Maybe you shouldn’t put too much effort into it. But then who knows what sort of endless fuckery that would bring upon you!?  

“You know it needs to happen, Kar,” he says gently. You have a mouthful of yelling ready for him even while his gentle fingers caress your horn. “I guess this is as good time as any. And I’ve been wanting to say it anyway. It’s not your fault things are fucked.”

You didn’t expect the excruciating pointlessness of your efforts to lead to this wreck of a sprite comforting you and telling you that no, you didn’t singlehanded fucked over a whole timeline.

“Bullshit,” you protest and Erisol softly shooshes you.

The way he enunciates the word reminds you of Sollux’s stupid lisp, you smile a bit and hide your face on his chest because he’s ridiculous. You wrap your arms around him a bit tighter. You can’t help but notice it’s odd that his lower body is missing and there are no legs to get tangled with your own. You think Erisol notices it, too, because his body wraps around your torso and his tail rests on your hip.

You appreciate it. His one earfin wriggles in a pathetic but cute way when you look at his face.

“What.”

“You are a fucking asshole,” you said. You aren’t yelling anymore. “It’s unsettling that I even missed you when you were such a big unnerving nookstain. Both parts of you.”

“Heheh. So I’m twice as unnerving?” He seems a little happy. You feel a little happy. You still poke him on spritey grub scars. “Wow.”

This is…nice.

“You wouldn’t believe how much worse that piece of shit of a rock got after you died and half died and whatever,” you tell him. You tell him everything. You tell him more than you planned to. You tell him more than you realized you were holding in.

Erisol runs his fingers down your neck. He listens and scratches his claws behind your ears. He shooshes you and paps you when you set yourself off in a loop of anger and insecurity. Your bloodpusher aches with how pale you feel for him right at that moment, and all those uncultured suckers who ever argued pale passion couldn’t happen in the spur of the moment could go fuck themselves in a chainsaw because, right now, you’d give Erisolsprite your diamond to keep, decency be damned.

You are not a selfish quadrantmate. He talks, too. He tells you everything about his stretch of life as a sprite, the humans he met, the other sprites. Mostly, he tells you of how lonely he feels. How sorry he feels.

You listen and pet his hair, caress his horns, his face and his stupid fin. You shoosh him when he gets caught in his own self-loathing and you pap him back into coherency. He tells you how part of him is sorry for things another part of him refuses to feel sorry for and how everything he feels he can’t even feel right. You listen.

“Part of me is sorry for killing Fef and Kan,” he pauses, and sniffles pitifully. “And both parts of me are sorry for the self-absorbed clusterfuck we started back then.” You kiss his left cheek, right under the blue lens of his dumb glasses. “Actually, both parts of me have some legitimate feelings of remorse for being such a shitty friend.”

You kiss his other cheek, under the red lens, too, and your horn catches on his glasses, leaving them crooked.

“You’re being a good moirail,” you reassure him, and, for a few seconds, you awkwardly stare at each other. “Goddamnit.”

“What the fuck,” he laughs. “That was so cheesy. I’m impressed, sorta.”

“It was sarcastic wonder, you insecure embarrassment.”

Erisol doesn’t offer a rebuttal, but there is a smug smile on his lips that makes you push him away in an attempt to push him off the pile. You forgot he’s wrapped around you, so it’s only more aggravating when he moves back just enough to fucking float. Erisolsprite just floats in silence for a moment, close enough for you to slap that smug smile right off his face if you really wanted to.

“My diamond is yours, for what it’s worth,” he tells you with a small shrug.

You stare at him. The timeline is doomed – you are doomed – and he’s offering you he’s quadrant, if you want it. Does he even feel that way about you? Do you even feel that way about him? An affair was a completely different thing from a serious relationship. Do sprites even have quadrants? You open your mouth to ask, but you don’t.

This is nice. The universe isn’t ending, just this particular timeline. Just you.

You want it anyway.

“Yeah. Okay,” you smile at him. “And you can have mine.”

You figure this is as good an ending as this version of you will get. It’s embarrassing how okay you are with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading it! 
> 
> the title comes from the song no children by the mountain goats and the chapter titles come from the song autoclave by the mountain goats. the songs seem to fit with the ship and the whole doomed timeline setting.
> 
> this is my first time in this sort of challenge/fandom exchange ~~and it's amazing none of my friends hit me with a rock to stop talking about it~~ and i really enjoyed it. i got so excited to get syblatortue's prompt and by excited i mean i freaked out like the fangirl because her art is beautiful and i wanted to write something good for the person who makes art who inspires most of my erisol headcanons. ~~really, how did none of my friends murder me before this was over is a mystery~~  
>  anyway, this was the result and i'm not sure it's good, but i hope you enjoy it a tiny bit at least :D
> 
> also, thanks bb and koko for reading it and offering support and holding my hand. all the love!


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